


And Two Live Chickens

by Baozhale



Series: Simbi Prompts [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7705870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baozhale/pseuds/Baozhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt was for a 3 paragraph short story involving all or most of:</p>
<p>1. A tennis racket <br/>2. A mention of Trotsky. <br/>3. A giant grapefruit. <br/>4. A car with cheap upholstery. <br/>5. A dictionary. <br/>6. Two live chickens.</p>
<p>They all appear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Two Live Chickens

On my way home from a Pokemon Go outing with college buddies that lasted _much_ longer than expected, my phone vibrated. The tennis racket icon told me it was Ayesha calling me. I picked up. “Did you just butt-dial me?” I asked. “You know I'd usually be a pumpkin by now. Or a grapefruit.” 

 

“No, I'm in a bit of a weird spot and I need a ride. Can you pick me up?” she said, breathless. “I'm really sorr-OW! STOP PECKING ME YOU ASSHOLE! Sorry about this. I'll send you my location.”

 

I rolled my eyes. “On my way.” Ayesha managed to get herself into the _weirdest_ situations. Like the girl with the giant grapefruit, or winning a bet with a Trotskyist that she could convince a frat boy of most of his points as long as she just didn't use the words “communism,” “Trotsky,” “revolution,” “capitalism,” or “means of production,” because, she said, “It's not like most people know what those words actually _mean_ , even at the level this thing gets into,” waving a pocket edition of a student's dictionary at him. This time she was sitting in front of the Sea Dog, breathless and trying in vain to keep two chickens from pecking her. For once, I was glad my car, and everything in it, including the upholstery, was crap– where did she even _find_ chickens? This wasn't exactly a rural area. “OK, what happened this time?” I asked her.

 

She pulled two blankets out of my back seat and started to restrain the chickens with them so I could drive her home in relative peace. “So, you remember the grapefruit girl? She was at Chris's Clams today, shouting about chicken shit and grapefruit yields, waving an even bigger grapefruit than last time.” She shoved the chickens into the back seat, then climbed in beside me. “Jason wanted me to talk to her, because she was “creating a disturbance”.” I rolled my eyes. Jason thought _everything_ was a disturbance, though to be fair, this one was probably legitimate. “Yeah, I know. So I talked to her. Then she threw these two at me,” she said, waving vaguely at the chickens in the back seat, “and ran off. So now I have chickens. Do you know how to pluck a chicken? Beasties that bite me get bitten back.” She held up her forearms, which were covered in scratches and peck marks.

 


End file.
